Titanic survivor story
by Professor zaz
Summary: Black top hats and pristine, off-white gloves swarm the dining hall. NOT FOR LONG! THE TITANIC IS SINKING!


There were so many righteous, moral and honest people whose skeletal frames were drifting aimlessly in the perishing depths of the frozen, now scarlet hell which had become their final resting place. I competed furiously with what might I had left to avoid the thought of death which lingered cautiously on my numb mind.

The night was clear, painted navy as if saluting the lifeless captain. Golden balls glistened gracefully in the distant sky. The titanic took her last breaths before her steel cage delved elegantly into the cracked mirror like substance which was the sea; souls clinged onto her metallic body until they too were swept brutally into the sub-zero marine. The violent screams faded as they were over powered by a thunderous clap of water. Survivors were sprayed instantly with the sea's bitter tears as it mourned the loss of life. The secure lifeboat in which my limp body lay, swayed dangerously in the penetrating arctic wind as my frail structure crumbled under pressure from my mind; I let the fresh memories from which I had resisted overwhelm my flooded senses once more.

April 14th 1912.

Black top hats and pristine, off-white silk gloves swarmed the dining room. Luxurious aromas of perfectly cooked, expensive meats pleasantly engulfed the brightly lit grand room. Caressing the smooth rim of the crystal champagne glass gently; my ears were automatically drawn to the light gossip and humorous banter escaping from Mrs Dalton's table. Although the clatter of silver cutlery, finest china and crystal glasses was almost guaranteed on each table for first class ticket holders; the noises which came next had been concluded impossible for each class on the unsinkable buoyant beast.

CRASH! Chandeliers rattled uncontrollably, every piece of china was in shards scattered onto the Persian carpets, panicked cries demolished the once jolly atmosphere and the stench of fear surged my tender lungs. The rest was an icy blue blur. My body had risen from the seat immediately and before I could comprehend what was happening, I felt myself running. Tangled red locks whipped my pale face viciously. Gashes started to appear; a deep crimson liquid poured from them seeping slowly down my plump cheeks. I felt nothing in comparison to the agonizing pain which was yet to come. I heard everything but the rhythmic rise and fall of my beating chest as I inhaled and exhaled the salty sea air rapidly.

Piercing sounds of crunching bones could be heard in the distance and that's when I thought of her. Sophia's fragile little body was inside the dyeing ship. I had to go back. Blood stained materials from my tattered velvet dress glued uncomfortably to my moist clammy skin. Finding my way back to our room was not easy. Figures hurled themselves at me in the darkness as I attempted to elbow my way through; I arrived at the door, knee deep in blade like ice, realisation dug its claws into my fleshy chest; Sophia was in her Moses basket; she would have drowned within minutes. Hand firmly grasping the brass door knob, my body was tense and I finally understood that I wouldn't be able to live if I unveiled the horror which masked itself behind the door. It was Sophia's silent carcass. There was nothing I could do to protect her anymore. The thought of her short life created an excruciating wound in my throat the agony refrained my desperate breathing. If my sister couldn't live, I'd live for her. My grip loosened on the handle, chaos surrounded me.

It was for her that I composed myself swiftly. A bolt of adrenaline circled through me as if I had been electrocuted a thousand times. My body was ready for survival. I broke into a sprint; rushing through an army of injured men, women and children, I dodged, pushed and collided with what felt like an infinite number of passengers. Water had almost disappeared on this part of the ship, it was the outside edge. It was unlike to other parts of the ship; home to soaked, grainy oak flooring where raindrops danced gracefully on deck. People in this area seemed blinded by what revolting events were taking place aboard the floating death trap. My mouth was parched; a tang of blood glazed its inside. The clanging of rusty shackles could be heard over any bells which represented any failed attempts to restore order. Strong whiffs of cheap liquor and cremated flesh overpowered my delicate senses

Pure anguish thundered through my veins as I digested the alarming scenes taking place in front of my eyes. A middle-aged, third class, scruffy looking man who had clearly experienced severe trauma; stood pouring drinking alcohol onto his arms and igniting the volatile liquor, he was undoubtedly distraught. His skin melted, blistered and became blood splattered. I reflected wordlessly to myself; without Sophia, was that to be my fate as well? Snowflakes glided effortlessly in the frosted, forceful gales.

Time had arrived fashionably late for my turn to board a cramped lifeboat. Mobs of passengers queued restlessly to save their existence. A sticky coating of blood, sweat and tears generously covered my heart shaped face, smearing from forehead to chin. Different odours had merged together to form a murky haze of scents consisting of mainly un-burnt fuel gas and blood. No human would be able to get used to the distressed screams of women and children, so I learnt to block out and replace the noise rather than accept it. The noises were replaced by the deafening crashes of mountainous waves, chilly gusts, horns, whistles and orders from an almost familiar husky voice.

Distant clouds patched the clear ultramarine shaded natural roof top. Thick fog blanketed the shimmering fluid burial site. A muscular armed jerked my entire body foreword whilst tugging at my sleeve. It was my time to leave. I was launched onboard a leaking lifeboat and as it lowered steadily, I thought of my life, my loss and my future.


End file.
